Pigskin Glove
I watched Bridge to Terabithia this morning and I cried through the whole thing, not just at the sad parts, at all of the parts. The whole concept that it is possible for an individual to occupy a state other than total emotional isolation was too much to bear without being emotionally overwhelmed. The very notion creates a pain in me. Over a period of several years I had grown comfortable with being lonely, it is, after all, much easier to be alone than to deal with other people.
Yesterday, a friend expressed a similar type of sentiment to me. In a rare moment of being both articulate and concise, a moment that left as quickly as it came, I explained to him that we gamble at companionship in the face of impossibly long odds because, in the end, the years and years of pain that are the end result of every relationship seem like a fair trade for the fleeting moments of pleasure that relationships provide. In the heat of that particular conversation this notion worked to comfort us both and allowed us to continue to complete the inane and pointless activities that were to round out our respective days. We continued to talk for several more minutes, because as long as we kept talking we were not reflecting, and we knew that the notions behind our comfort would not hold up under scrutiny.
Under scrutiny we see that the reality is that we place that first bet utterly naive of the length of the odds, assuming that we've got at least a fifty-fifty shot at coming out on top. When we inevitably lose, we have no choice but to go in double or nothing, it is the law of escalating investment, we've already lost everything so we might as well try to get at least some of it back. As failure lines up behind failure, rejection after rejection, we begin to realize that we hadn't lost everything on that first go around, and, in fact, we keep losing more for every stab we take, and that even though it feels as though there could be nothing left to lose, we had still better cut our losses while we can. As time passes, with nothing but our massive losses to keep us company, we become accustomed to the agonizing emptiness, the misery doesn't subside, but it does become comfortable, beginning to fit like a glove.
Locating MOG account...
Comments (6)
omigod. i've been teary eyed in the entirety of that movie, not once but thrice. this post depleted me of all energy to blabber (thankfully, for being articulate and concise all at once is a feat) but i would also mention the idea of perverse subsidies, or subsidies (the provision of an artificial advantage) with possibly undesirable social consequences (like subsidizing an industry of artery-clogging cheese). relationships, striking up a conversation, they are perverse subsidies. infinite thank you's for your words (and the music).
Yes, perverse subsidies they are, as they do us more harm than good, yet we proffer that artificial advantage, meaning that, as always, we hurt ourselves the most. Excellent analysis, poe. Nonetheless, I am going to make the bold move here and come out in favor of artery-clogging cheese. Yum.
The above mentioned friend sent me, three hours ago, a link to the following trailer for the 1995 film, Drunks:
He offered no additional commentary, nor any explanation for why I should watch. It seems fitting, but there are so many ways in which it fits that I have no idea which point, if any, that it is intentionally driving home.
i see they're going from one form of addiction to another, including the meetings. it wouldn't be untrue about isolation and companionship. (and who doesn't love cheese?) perhaps the "everyone's a junkie" point was being made. i could theorize all day but i love this post with its fittingly unexplained parts. (also, "marzipan-infused vodka" cracked me up.)
You know, I had a lengthy conversation with myself the other day about the importance of leaving things unexplained: meanings change from person to person, and, more importantly, from moment to moment, and that is what allows person, time, and idea to occasionally come into a somewhat perfect alignment. Still, it can be really fucking difficult to resist the urge to endlessly clarify. I suppose that is mostly why I have those sorts of conversations with myself.
i have that sort of conversation with myself. i can really talk a lot (like now) if i don't zip it deliberately, and i can analyze things to their death. i keep controlling the urge, which may be a conversation killer in itself.
these days i am careful to say "similar" instead of "the same" - like "i think similarly" - knowing that it isn't so much sameness but alignment (good word) that occurs between persons, moments, meanings. i guess though that i am then guilty of under-explaining.